Assumptions
by Sad eyed Lady of The Low Life
Summary: John comes across a surprising revelation in relation to all the assumptions about himself and Sherlock. No longer One-shot or one sided! 7th and final Chapter up! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: Because the one thing I needed was another fandom... but Sherlock sucked me in and now I'm hooked...

Just a quick one-shot where John discovers something about all the assumptions about his relationship with Sherlock.

Disclaimer: Not mine, BBC owns the idea of a modern Sherlock, Arthur Conan Doyle owns the creation of the characters... I just happen to like to play with them...

Thanks to the ever wonderful Beta fortheloveoftea. She's a legend and a half and shares my unbridled love (or lust) for Sherlock and John... go you!

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Assumptions

John Watson entered the rooms at 221b Baker street and threw himself down in an armchair with an exacerbated sigh. Mrs. Hudson had just made another comment about Sherlock and himself. Something about all the loud noises she keeps hearing, which have been keeping her up at night and that they should be considerate of her when they are getting a bit frisky... (He shuddered at the thought.) No matter how much he tried to explain that Sherlock was jumping up and down on a cadaver... and not on him, she just flashed a cheeky grin. Obviously she didn't believe him.

"Doesn't it ever bother you?" he asked his housemate who sat across from him.

"Mmm...?" was the non-committal reply he received. Apparently Sherlock Holmes was too engrossed by his laptop, his eyes darting across the screen in concentration, to bother with John at the moment.

"You know... the constant assumptions that we..." He gestured between the two of them. "... are a..." he cleared his throat, "...an item."

Sherlock looked up from his laptop and stared at John. "Why would it bother me?"

"Because it's not true perhaps?" John asked incredulously.

"If I was to concern myself with every false assumption that was made about me, I'd get no work done."

"Well it might not bother you but it bothers me. I'm seeing someone, a woman in fact, and if this rumour gets back to Sarah that I'm sleeping with you... well... it would be a little uncomfortable don't you think?" John asked.

"Right, well then I'll stop telling people we're a couple so." Was Sherlock's curt reply.

John sat in silence for a moment, his mouth agape, his mind digesting the last sentence that had come from Sherlock.

"Tea?" Sherlock queried. Whether he was asking John if he wanted a cup of tea or to make a cup of tea, John wasn't entirely sure. At the moment it was actually the last thing on his mind.

"What?" he asked in disbelief. "You'll stop telling..." he stopped, anger boiling to the surface. "What do you mean you'll stop telling people that we are a couple?" he barked.

"Really John I know you have a good grasp on the english language, I am an avid follower of your blog after-all. SO what I mean, is exactly what I said, I'll stop telling people that we are a couple."

"W...why..." John shook his head, trying to clear it of some of his thoughts. "Why would you be telling people that?" he asked, a forced tone of calm beaten into the question.

"Oh you know a couple of reasons. Tea?" he asked again.

"No I don't want bloody tea! I want to know why you're telling people we are a couple?" John's temper finally getting the better of him.

"You're bothered by this..." Sherlock stated idly.

John rose from his chair and moved to the kitchen, only to return again. Taking a deep breathe he spoke once more.

"Sherlock, why are you telling people we are a couple?"

"It's easier than explaining that I am not interested in any kind of relationship. It was also a way of seeing how you deal with the assumptions that you are gay, which would directly lead to your opinion in regards to gay people in general. I may be brilliant but I didn't know by looking at you whether you were homophobic or not. I couldn't share a flat with someone who would disapprove of my way of life, now could I?

John sighed. There was a twisted logic to it, he had to admit.

"Well did I pass the test?" he asked taking his seat once again.

"Of course you did. You past the test the night we met."

"So why would you keep insinuating that we're together?" his eyes furrowed in confusion.

"It was...amusing...?" Sherlock answered. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure himself why he would do such a thing. Once they had developed that 1. Sherlock was gay and 2. John really didn't have a problem with it, what with his sister also being gay, he should have just dropped it but he didn't... which was more than a little startling for detective to admit at the moment.

John just sighed. "Ok... you know what I really don't care either way... just stop telling people we're a couple." He knew that the damage was done now, but something about Sherlocks uncertainty kept him from pushing the subject any further.

After an awkward moment in silence Sherlock spoke up.

"Tea?"

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Authors Note: Read and Review if you would so please! Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

Authors Note: Ok a few people expressed some interest in a sequel to this story so I think it'll be a 3 chapter story...

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and added to this to their favourites or alerts... its very much appreciated.

Usual disclaimers apply - Not mine, unfortunately!

Thanks again to the wonderbar Fortheloveoftea who beta'd this and shares my love of Sherlock...

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Chapter 2

At 6 pm on friday, after finishing a long day in the clinic, John found himself bounding up the steps of 221 baker street two at a time. His eagerness was not brought on by an urgent need to assist Sherlock but, for once, an urgent need to sit down and laze for the evening. He could catch up on his reading, or write in his blog... or (much more likely) watch some trashy T.V. Something he can safely say he was looking forward to all day. Perhaps unconsciously he'd been looking forward to for the past few months of his residence in Baker Street. So he couldn't help but groan inwardly when his well laid plans were interrupted by the shrill "JOHN!" that came from the bottom of the stairs. He turned slowly.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson." He gave a little salute in greeting and walked down the stairs.

"You've not seen Sherlock about have you?"

"Nope. He's away on a personal matter."

John hadn't bothered to question Sherlock what exactly the personal matter was, but something in the way Sherlock had hissed 'personal matters' between his teeth, hinted that it was Mycroft, it was said with a particular tone that was usually reserved for Mycroft and Mycroft alone. He could also assume it had something to do with their mother, since he would never contact Mycroft unless it involved their mother. Those two men had serious mother issues. John smirked to himself, he must have picked up some things from Sherlock over the past few month's of their friendship.

"Oh right. Well tell him that the little extra rent he owes for the wall he..." the next word was said through gritted teeth..."defaced is due."

"I certainly will!" John smiled and turn towards the stairs.

"Thank you love. So have you any plans for the night?" Mrs. Hudson continued, seemingly ignorant of John's attempt to get away.

"As a matter of fact I do, very hectic plans too! I will be sitting up on the sofa, with a couple of beers and my television." He smiled brightly.

"Not going to see Sarah tonight then?"

_Ah Mrs. Hudson; the epitome of nosy neighbour._ John thought sourly.

"No. Sarah and I didn't really work out. Still friends and colleagues but thats it." John replied and it was true. They had parted on very good terms considering their first date including kidnapping, near-death experiences and of course Sherlock.

"Good." Was the odd reply.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Oh not that there was anything wrong with Sarah, but it must not have been easy on Sherlock, seeing you with her..." was the explanation.

"Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock and I were never a couple. Not ever. Not even once. So I'm sure that seeing Sarah and myself together didn't bother him in the slightest." John said, as if talking to a small child.

"I know that John. I never said you were a couple. What I said was that it must not have been easy for him to see you with someone else." She replied in a similar patronising manner.

"Why would it bother him?" And even as the words left his mouth, a cold sting of realisation hit him. She was insinuating... she thinks that Sherlock had... feelings for him... romantic feelings judging by the way she worded her sentences.

"I thought you had to be smart to be a doctor John." She sighed shaking her head in pity before turning her back on him and entering her own flat.

John walked into the kitchen in a daze. He popped the kettle, folded his arms and leaned against the counter.

This was bad. This was very bad. Sherlock couldn't have feelings for him. The man was a machine! He barely ate or slept. And even if, (and that was a big IF, bold type, captialised and underlined) Sherlock had romantic tendencies that geared toward John, it didn't matter because John didn't return those feelings. An uncomfortable feeling niggled at the back of his mind which he pointedly ignored. Another chill passed through his body.

His night was ruined now. There was no use reading a book because he would forget what was on the page, no use watching television because he couldn't pay attention to it and his blog? Forget it. It was enough to write about Sherlock on a normal day but today... he couldn't risk his jumbled thoughts working their way on to the internet.

Eventually his thoughts turned to Sarah. He had liked her. She was pretty and intelligent. They had a lot in common. There were no airs and graces about her. They had gone on a few dates and had a good time.

_Shagged a couple of times too_ he mentally noted, as if to reassure himself of his heterosexuality.

He was awoken out of his reverie by the slam of the front door and Sherlock's purposeful stride into the kitchen. He stopped by the table. John looked up, and although he tried to hide his thoughts, he couldn't help but feel like a deer caught in headlights. Sherlock's head twitched slightly to the side and his eyes narrowed. John got the distinct impression that Sherlock was reading his thoughts.

_He knows... Oh christ he knows._

John stood frozen as Sherlock slowly walked towards him, a grin played across his lips. Something about the way Sherlock's eyes darkened sent a shiver coursing down his body, pooling in the pit of his stomach.

"Hello Sherlock." John spoke, hoping to break the spell that Sherlock's presence seemed to be weaving around him. Sherlock remained frustratingly silent. Then, in what seemed like a milli-second, his long elegant fingers were clutching at John's face, as he pulled him into a lingering kiss.

John leaned further back into the counter, grabbing it with both hands, his knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip.

Sherlocks lips were warm, his hands were cool and his kiss was exactly what he thought kissing Sherlock would be: rough and powerful and very intuitive to John's wants and needs. John's nostrils were assaulted in the most delightful way by the aroma that was Sherlock. A heady combination of aftershave, burnt out chemicals and just a touch of the cold London evening that Sherlock had come in from. Slow and insistent, Sherlocks lips worked over John's and before he even realised, John had darted out his tongue in the hopes of tasting Sherlock deeper. Sherlock smiled into the kiss before pulling away.

'Hello John.' His voice was deep and raspy.

That familiar shiver coursed through John's body again and he vaguely registered the sound of the kettle popping in the background.

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Authors Note: There it be. Read and review and watch this space for chapter 3!


	3. Chapter 3

Authors Note: Here be Chapter 3. However... contrary to what I had said in the last chapter, there will now be 6 chapters... Don't ask me what happened... the story seemed to just take a life of its own... So... sorry about that.

Dealing with the aftermath of the kiss!

Tonight the role of beta will be played by a tall dark sinister woman... or fortheloveoftea... (line stolen from Alladin) Thanks as always to her and her wonderfulness.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted and favourited. *hugs*

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or John... I just like to make them do filthy filthy things... :)

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Chapter 3

After the first kiss, John's eyes snapped open, blinking twice, he tried to focus them. However, the only thing that cleared in his vision was how close Sherlock still stood. If John had a chance for a coherent thought, he might have counted the almost invisible freckles dotting Sherlocks nose.

He couldn't be doing this... right? He was straight. He liked women. He didn't fancy men, and with that, the niggling thought at the back of his head, the thought he ignored earlier came to the forefront of his mind. He liked Sherlock. Sherlock was beautiful. Tall and pale, lean and strong, with high cheek bones and ebony hair. Michelangelo himself could have sculpted him out of marble. He quickly shook that thought out of his head.

Sherlock stepped back a moment, noticing the confusion written on John's face. As usual he would have to talk him through this.

John let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.

'Ah...' he breathed slowly... 'I... I... I don't... I'm...' John stuttered.

Sherlock sighed in annoyance.

John's confusion, along with any thought of embarrassment, was suddenly replaced with anger.

'What was that?' John snapped.

'What was what... John?' Sherlock asked deliberately slow, his voice still raspy.

John suppressed another shudder, that voice...

'You know what. You sighed. You're annoyed. You're acting as if I'm some way at fault for feeling a little confused... for...' he was going to say 'for kissing you back...' but decided against it. Sherlock probably knew how the sentence would end regardless.

'Its more impatience than annoyance John.' Sherlock answered manner of factly.

'Well can you blame me? We just... we just... and... and...' John broke off before continuing and his voice rose slightly. 'I'm straight as an arrow, straight as a die,

Straight as a...'

'...roundabout.' Sherlock cut in, smirking, however seeing the deadly look that John shot him, that smirk quickly vanished. Maybe this was a bit more serious than he realised.

'That's not funny. That isn't even...' John trailed off again. What was he going to do? How was he going to deal with this situation? Sherlock was... frustrating and selfish and so perfectly amazing ninety percent of the time that a part of him wasn't entirely sure what he was arguing about.

Sherlock stepped closer again. His face serious. He looked at John with darkened eyes.

'You're right John. This isn't funny, not in the slightest. This is very serious. This is also a one time chance, one time offer. ' He paused a moment before adding 'Your only chance.'

John reddened slightly but remained silent.

'I've been watching you John. For the past few months I've been watching you. I've noticed things about you, that you have yet to see yourself.'

'Sherlock... Are you trying to tell me that I'm... gay?' John asked.

'No. I am not trying to tell you anything about yourself John, I am, however, trying to tell you that I am gay, that I have feelings for you and you have some for me...'

'You can't expect... you just can't rush... these types of things.' John exclaimed. 'You've probably dealt with all this! I'm not... I never...' John trailed off again, mentally kicking himself for his inability to finish one _bloody_ sentence.

'I fail to see the problem.' Was Sherlock's rather callous reply.

John just stared. 'What?' he asked in disbelief. It seemed to be fast becoming his most used word.

'I fail to see the problem. You are obviously attracted to me physically as well as mentally. So...what's the problem?' Sherlock asked.

John hated logic. Yes it was true, he was attracted to Sherlock, probably in every way possible, but he had never been attracted to a man in this way before. It was a fair bit to get his head around.

'Sherlock...this isn't something you just decide over a cup of tea and some cake...this is life changing... just... don't rush me please... I don't ask for much from you.'

John pleaded.

Sherlock slightly nodded. They stood in the kitchen in silence for a moment. Both consumed by his own thoughts.

'I'm not rushing you John,' the deep baritone seemed to reverberate around the quiet of the room, '...I just don't understand why you feel the need to dissect this. There is a mutual attraction between us, body and mind, yet you seem to be having some trouble with this. I don't understand why you won't have me? ' He spoke with such a clinical tone that John was a little intrigued with how much he had really gotten under Sherlock Holmes skin.

Sherlock's words repeated in John's head. _'Why won't you have me...?'_ To someone as social awkward as Sherlock, this must have been a huge admission. God knows how much time he spent analysing the various aspects of their friendship. How often did he second guess both their feelings?

John nodded, not quite understanding the depth to Sherlock's admission, but accepting it all the same. Sherlock took this to be a good sign. He stepped closer again, afraid that, as John was wont to do, he would over think this and all would be lost. He took action.

'This is your only chance.' Sherlock repeated lowly, threateningly.

John visible shivered at all the possible outcomes that 'your only chance' could have meant. He would second guess no more. He wasn't going to mess this up by over analysing his own feelings when they had been very apparent for a while. He trusted Sherlock completely. If Sherlock could see it, John could accept it.

_'Well fuck it...' _John thought._ 'In for a penny...' _And as his thoughts strayed back to resuming their kiss, he caught Sherlock's intense gaze which caused another thrill to burst through his veins. He was in deep trouble.

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Authors Note: Thanks again and read and review... :)


	4. Chapter 4

Authors Note: Here be chapter 4, which also kind leads up to my first foray into writing anything explicit so please...please be kind about it!

Thanks to the wonderful fortheloveoftea who is her magnificence beta'd this for me!

Thanks as well to everyone who reviewed, alerted and added this story to their favourites. It warms the heart to see the wonderful responses I've getting for this!.

Ususal Disclaimers: Not my mine, never was!

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Chapter 4

Taking the look on John's face as a go-ahead, Sherlock captured John's lips once again, pushing against him more forcefully. John began to ache at the pressure the counter was putting on his lower back, causing him to arch closer to Sherlock. Sherlock took this moment to deepen the kiss, which had now become impatient and rough. Catching John's bottom lip between his lips, Sherlock tugged gently, earning a slight gasp from the smaller man. Hand's ran through John's hair, before slipping lower, one resting on the back of his neck, the other on the base of his back and pulled John impossibly close.

Whether it was the need to have Sherlock closer to him, or to keep himself upright John wasn't sure but his hands also began to move, gripping Sherlock by the lapels and pulling him closer. Tongues danced and wrestled for dominance as John pushed Sherlock up against the adjacent wall. The satisfying thud that Sherlocks body made as it came into contact with the wall, followed by the sharp moan that escaped from his lips sent a chill through John's body, he smirked, Sherlock hadn't expected that. John was many things: intelligent, normal, reliable, sensible, but he would never back down from a challenge. John was an army boy first and foremost, he would _not_ shy away.

Right now the logical part of John's brain, the part that would have usually shouted 'STOP!' when it came to rushing into things, was instead, trying to figure out the fastest route to Sherlocks bedroom – through the sitting room around the coffee table _or_ through the sitting room around the sofa? Then like a flash, in a moment of genius the answer appeared - _just get to the sofa!_

Sherlock broke the kiss once more. 'I'm not taking you on the sofa.' he whispered huskily in John's ear. The man had read his thoughts, the voice and the words he had spoken sent a quiver straight to John's already hard prick... _I'm not taking you on the sofa...'_ and all John could think in that moment, was where exactly Sherlock was planning to take him? A tremour of anticipation snaked down his body.

Sherlock pushed against John, and still locked to John's lips, began to maneuver them in through the sitting room. Apparently Sherlock had deduced that going around the sofa was the fastest way to his bedroom. However, as they moved, Sherlock caught his foot on one of the numerous bits of rubbish that took over the floor and collapsed onto the sofa, John landing on top of him. John smirked.

Hands rushed to remove clothes, as John pushed the coat from Sherlock's shoulders. Sherlock arched forward to get his arms out of the sleeves, their lips separating for a moment as John pulled his jumper over his head, messing his already tussled hair. Hands groped and grabbed at any flesh available as John's lips made their way to Sherlock's long and pale neck. He teased at the pulse point and felt it jump beneath his lips. His tongue led a trail up the side of Sherlocks neck to his ear, where he bit down on the lobe. The low hiss that escaped from Sherlock's lips was abruptly interrupted by John's lips crashing against them again.

As nervous hands began to open the buttons on Sherlocks shirt, slowly revealing the long pale torso beneath, surer hands lightly trailed up and down John's back, under his t-shirt. John's hands hovered above Sherlock's skin, cautious or teasing, Sherlock wasn't sure, but in his impatience he bucked his hips up toward John. In shock, John grabbed Sherlocks hips and ground down into him, rubbing against his hardness, causing Sherlock to grab John's shoulder's in a vice like grip and groan audibly.

Surgical fingers explored Sherlock's chest and stomach, lightly trailing paths of fire down his skin, causing a burn to pool in the pit of his stomach. Blunt finger nails scratched dull lines down Sherlock's sides when he bucked up once again, trying to feel John's body pressed up against his own.

John broke the kiss, leant down on his elbows, and rested his forehead against Sherlock's, his eyes closed. He needed to calm down. He daren't open his eyes because the reality of the situation might just come crashing down on top of him if he did. They remained there for a few moments, Sherlock's ragged breathing tickling John's nose and mouth. He smiled absentmindedly at that.

He suddenly snapped his eyes open when nibble fingers began working on his zips. Looking down, Sherlock was staring at him with a cheshire grin across his face. Then long elegant fingers found themselves wrapped around John's cock and he chocked back a sob before hissing lowly. 'Oh Sweet Jesus...'

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Authors Note: There it be... Was I being a little bit cruel? :) Read and review if you please!

There won't be an update till sometime next week (halloween is in 2 days and I must make ready, but i promise that I won't leave the boys hanging on for long!)


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine... never was... but maybe someday...however improbable...

Authors Note/Warning: Ok... here be smut... Smut of the smuttiest variety. I have never written smut before so please be kind... mega thanks to the wonderful beta yummietimelord... she's just amazing. Her little notes about how often the word 'lowly' appeared (which was well above average) and her wonderful note that came from the urban dictionary made posting this much easier! *hugs*

Dedicated to everyone out there who just wished they had a John and Sherlock of their own to play with.

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Chapter 5

'You make the most delightful little noises John. Quite... erotic...' Sherlock whispered roughly. John moaned softly. A coherent sound had yet to leave his lips since Sherlock had began stroking him lightly.'And your face... it contorts quite wonderfully...' he continued before licking at a bead of sweat that had formed on John's cheek.

A tremor ran through John. He moaned and arched against Sherlock's ministrations before deciding that he want to unravel the great Sherlock Holmes. Roughly grabbing him through his trousers, John squeezed lightly, causing Sherlock to gasp with what sounded suspiciously like 'Oh yes...' Sherlock gave John one rough stroke, before reverting back to his light and feathery teasing.

John took action. Without even needing to open any buttons or zips, he slipped his hands beneath Sherlocks loose pants (vaguely noting that the man was entirely too thin) and grabbed Sherlock. Sherlock moaned loudly. John panicked for a moment and remained motionless, anxiety written on his face.

'I.. I've never... this is...' John stammered.

Sherlock was taken aback a moment at the vulnerability behind John's unfinished sentence.

'It's alright...just do what you like yourself... You know me, I will tell you if I don't enjoy it.' Sherlock whispered reassuringly in John's ear. John nodded lightly before continuing.

Strong fingers wrapped around the base of Sherlocks cock and with one rough tug, John had Sherlock writhing beneath him. Taking confidence from Sherlock's reaction, John continued his lazy strokes. Sherlock threw his head back, a sharp white incisor biting at the corner of his lip and he moaned once again.

Sherlock continued his own hand movements but they were, by now, much less elegant than before. Now he pulled and tugged, quick and sharp, which led to John burying his head into Sherlock's neck, clamping his teeth into Sherlock's flesh, before begging him to stop. Sherlock stilled his movements.

They lay still for a moment, their erratic gasping breaking the delicate silence of the rooms.

'Bedroom?' Sherlock suggested softly.

'Bedroom.' John eagerly agreed before standing up quickly, grabbing Sherlock's hand and pulling him up to his feet, leading them to Sherlock's room.

Once inside Sherlock banged the door shut and leant back against it. John quickly turned and the dark look in Sherlock's eyes caused him to stride over purposefully, grab him by the face, and crash his lips against the taller mans. Again hands fought for a hold on flesh and Sherlock pulled John's t-shirt over his head, before pushing him back onto the bed in the centre of the room.

Sherlock lay on top of John and began to trail downwards, kissing and suckling at his neck and chest, the light sprinkling of hair rubbing coarsely against his face. The pale scar shining brightly against John's chest caught his eye.

Shaped like a starburst, John was particularly proud of the scar on his shoulder. It made him feel dangerous and brave. A constant reminder that he was blown to hell and survived, that at one point in time he was far from ordinary. So when fingers caressed the white raised mark lovingly, all John could do was hum in approval. When Sherlock whispered roughly. 'This is especially sexy...' John all but whimpered.

John let out a soft gasp as Sherlock took a nipple into his mouth and ravished it, tongues and teeth trailing and nipping at the sensitive flesh.

John's hands trailed up Sherlock's body, over his head and with a vice like grip, he plunged his hands into Sherlock's hair. Gripping the curls roughly, gripping and tugging at the curls..

Sherlock shivered lightly at the feel of John's hands buried in his hair. He maneuvered lower down John's body, and as he dipped his tongue into John's belly button, his hands began to push John's trousers and boxers down his hips.

'Oh fuck...' John gasped again as the cool air hit his cock.

John looked down at Sherlock, whose tongue had darted out and trailed across his lips. They then curled into the the dirtiest, most devilish grin and John suddenly had a delicious feeling that he was going to be eaten alive. The anticipation for what he knew was coming caused his hips to buck up involuntarily.

Sherlock smirked. 'Eager aren't we?' and before John could reply, he worked his tongue into the slit on the tip of John's prick.

'OH FUCK...!' This time a shout erupted from deep within John's throat and he pulled harder at Sherlock's curls. A shiver drew its way down Sherlock's spine and set in the pit of his stomach, causing his cock to twitch.

Sherlock took that moment to wrap his mouth around the head and slowly take more of John into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down, hollowing out his cheeks, before teasing the base with the tip of his tongue. After a few moments, John was gasping and driving his cock further down Sherlock's throat. He was so close...

He watched John, through lidded eyes, as he arched back against the bed, eyes closed, mouth open in a silent scream. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. To see John, disciplined John, soldier John, at his mercy, arched like a bow because Sherlock wanted him that way... To have John in a way that no other man had... Sherlock repressed a shudder. It was a feeling of immense power, one that Sherlock thrived on.

Sherlock pulled back up and removed his lips.

'I'm going to wreck you.' he whispered dangerously.

John shivered again. 'Please...' he begged.

'Now you have a choice John,' Sherlock began as he sat up and peered at John through a lust filled haze. 'Either you can return the favour and then I fuck you, or I just go ahead and fuck you.'

John shivered at the thought. That velvety voiced that spoke of dark deeds and even darker promises. He didn't have a chance.

'Either way, this night will not end until you are thoroughly fucked.' Sherlock continued lowly.

Sherlock bent low traced his tongue along the underside of his cock, unraveling John once more. He sat up and smirked. However the victory was short lived as John suddenly flipped him onto his back and peered down at him in triumph. Sherlock struggled to take control again but, damn it, if John didn't want the power more.

Pinning Sherlock's arms above his head, John swept in for a bruising kiss. No longer delicate and passionate but instead, teeth and tongues nipped and licked at abused flesh. John began to maneuver his way down Sherlock's body, mimicking the actions inflicted upon him moments ago.

He moved Sherlock's shirt out of the way, but refused to remove it entirely. When Sherlock went to take it off, John hissed 'Don't!' There was something incredibly sexy about Sherlock wearing only an opened, rumpled, white shirt...

John's lips trailed down the centre of Sherlocks chest, his fingers pinching at nipples, his teeth biting at flesh. He latched his lips to Sherlocks bony left hip, sucking and biting, leaving a dark purple mark. Sherlock shivered and ran his fingers through John's hair. 'John...' he whispered desperately.

John's hands began to shake with nerves, as they drifted to Sherlock's button. He fumbled before laughing nervously. Sherlock was struck again by his vulnerability, feeling suddenly guilty. Maybe this was rushing him. Sitting up, he grabbed John's hands and kissed them both lightly. John looked up and blue eyes met grey.

'We don't... we... we don't need to rush into this. You were willing to... and that's all that matters.' He whispered tenderly against the back of John's hands.

John smiled at Sherlock's concern before taking a deep breath and returning his hands to the task.

After the brief hesitation, John had Sherlock's trousers open. He pushed them down narrow hips and in a moment of courage, jumped straight to the job at hand, and wrapped his lips around Sherlock's prick.

Sherlock arched off the bed, his hands buried deep within strands of soft, dirty blonde hair. John again used mimicry to pleasure Sherlock. His lips sliding down as far as was comfortable, the tongue swirling around the head. He removed his mouth completely and licked a trail up along the underside of Sherlock's prick. Wonderfully erotic noises erupted from the back of Sherlock's throat. Groans and moans and raspy words that seemed to consistent of '_Good God_' or '_Oh my..._' filled the air of the room before Sherlock found himself nearing completion.

He pulled John away from his cock and dragged him back up for a kiss. Tasting both himself from John's lips and John from his own. Sherlock's arms wrapped around John, squeezing tightly, before laying his head upon his chest.

The next step was going to be incredibly exhausting.

'You're... a very... very fast learner Dr. Watson...' Sherlock whispered into John's hair.

John chuckled breathlessly. 'You're a very thorough teacher... Mr. Holmes.'

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Authors Note: Thar she be... my first proper foray into smut... be kind!

Again uber thanks to everyone who has been so supportive over the last few chapters by taking the time to review, or added this story to alerts or favourites. *Love and hugs*


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Assumptions - Chapter 6/7

Author: fairlygrimm

Beta: fortheloveoftea

Rating: NC-17

Fandom: Sherlock

Pairing: Sherlock/John

Status: In Progress

Warnings: Slash and much smut...

Spoilers: None really...unless Mofit and Gatiss decide that they want to incorporate this story line (or lack there-of) into the second series...

Disclaimer: I don't need a disclaimer as I do in fact own Sherlock and John... *bows head* ok you got me I lied! I don't own Sherlock or John but I love them like my own..

Summary: John comes across a surprising revelation in relation to all the assumptions about himself and Sherlock and smut occurs.

Authors Note: Ok... I've put it off long enough and I hope it was worth the wait. Again first time be kind and gentle like Sherlock is below... ;P

Like the new Harry Potter movie, its the penultimate chapter... unlike the new Harry Potter movie it is just basically porn (although I have yet to see the movie so I could be wrong...) Apologies for allowing my other obsessions to creep into this fandom... :)

Thanks to the wonderbar fortheloveoftea, who's unwavering support of this chapter has warmed the soul (which is a little strange cause of its content... *shrugs shoulders*)

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Chapter 6

Sherlock drew his fingers down John's back in lazy circles and squares, mapping out the Edgeware to Cannon Street tube lines, while his lips once again found themselves latched to John's sweat-streaked skin, licking and biting at his neck and shoulders, following the gentle curve of his collar bone, down to his shoulder. Lips found the scar and teeth nibbled lightly. John pressed Sherlock further into the mattress and sighed loudly.

Sherlock's hands began to travel downwards, his hands gripped John's arse tightly. 'Do you want to continue?' he murmured against John's neck.

John remained silent for a moment, considering. This was an awfully big step. He had just done things that he would never have imagined doing before, and with Sherlock Holmes at that. Did he really want to go..._ there? _

One side of his brain, the rational side, tried to imagine what it would feel like. To be so vulnerable, so exposed... but he couldn't. He tried to imagine how it would feel. How much was it going to hurt? It was quite strange to feel like a virgin again, seeing as he hadn't considered himself one since he was 19...but this was new territory. This was sex. Not only was it sex, but it was sex with a man. And everyone knew that sex was both literally and figuratively, a messy business. Not only because of them being men but because Sherlock would probably be his usual crass self and John would probably be his usual emotional self. Emotions would get involved.

The other side, the sex-craving, pleasure seeking side, argued that the way Sherlock had him whimpering moments ago, he could make an educated guess that Sherlock would ensure that he enjoyed it as much as possible. He could tell that Sherlock was far from an amateur at this sort of thing. John ignored the stab of jealousy at that thought.

Well he wasn't commended for his bravery in war for nothing... _What was this compared to being blown to Timbuktu?_ He thought with more bravado than belief.

Sherlock's tongue began trailing up John's neck once more, and a sharp bite once again, pulled John away from his thoughts. The man hated to be ignored and if this was how he got John's attention, well John certainly wouldn't complain.

He arched his head back, causing Sherlock to lean up from the bed. He wrapped his arms around John tighter and flipped them over once more. Sherlock kissed John lightly on the lips. His hands began to trail down John's body once more, lightly grazing John's still hard prick before slipping below his balls and gently caressing his entrance. John's breath hitched in his throat.

'I'll stop if you ask...' Sherlock whispered.

John remained silent. He still didn't know. His body was screaming at him to grow a pair and just let Sherlock ravish him. His head was screaming at him that this was not just sex. This was something entirely different. This was something he had no experience in. In the end his body's screaming was the loudest, the most urgent.

His head was nodding before he had a chance to stop it and Sherlock grinned.

'I knew you'd find me irresistible.' he laughed softly and reached into the top drawer of his locker and pulled out a bottle of lubricant. John wasn't surprised that he was prepared this.

Sherlock poured the lube onto his hand and coated his fingers in the oily substance before he brought his finger back to John's entrance. John tensed. This would be rather uncomfortable for John if he didn't relax. Sherlock took drastic measures and dipped his mouth back to John's cock. Better to have John relaxed and mindless when Sherlock would finally take the next step.

John moaned throatily and again his body arched for Sherlock, who took this opportunity to slip one finger into John. John's eyes shot open and he gasped loudly. Sherlock worked his finger in and out of John as his mouth mimicked the actions of his hands. After a few lazy trusts, he added a second finger, searching within John for the tiny bundle of nerves that would make him beg for more.

Sherlock pulled his mouth away from John's aching cock and once more joined him at the top of the bed, watching John through a lust-filled haze. This was exactly how he wanted John. Completely unraveling at his finger tips. (Or by his finger tips, Sherlock wasn't picky.)

When his fingers found the bud, he pressed against it roughly causing John to shout out his approval. 'Holy fuck Sherlock...!' Sherlock added a third finger at this moment. He was nothing if not thorough in his preparations.

His lips latched onto John's neck and pearly white teeth nibbled and bit their way long his skin, up towards John's ear. Sherlock began to whisper.

'Do you like that hmm? Do you like my fingers in you? Can you imagine what my prick will feel like pressed into you...' He growled deeply before adding 'fucking you...?'

John writhed and gasped at Sherlock's insinuations and ministrations, loving the indescribably feeling of being filled up, how it burned so deliciously and then moaned disapprovingly when Sherlock removed his fingers entirely.

He sat up and for the second time that night he watched John. He was laying flat on his back, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, hands twisted within the white sheets, hips arching off the bed and eyes tightly rammed shut. Sherlock repressed a shudder. How long had he been wanting this? This glorious creature completely helpless beneath him. Gasping for his touch. Wanting nothing more than Sherlock to take him repeatedly. Then John's voice, that delectable voice, rasped and Sherlock could sit idle no more.

'Sherlock... please...' He begged.

Sherlock grabbed John's hips and pulled him further down the bed, laying down between his legs. His fingers found his entrance once more, lightly pushing into him. John moaned again. Sherlock's lips went to John's ear and whispered 'Do you want me to take you here? Is that what you want John, because we can stop if you like?'

'Christ no... don't you dare... threaten that... don't stop...' John rasped. '...please...'

'So you want me to take you, to have you in ways you've only ever dreamed of?' Sherlock asked, his fingers slipping out of John slowly.

'Yes...' he breathed. 'Yes... please...'

Sherlock sat up once more and coated his cock generously with lube before lining himself up with John's entrance. He prodded lightly before slowly pushing himself in. John gasped at the harsh sting of pain, shutting his eyes tighter in a bid to dull the ache within him.

Once Sherlock had breached the tight ring of muscle, he stopped. He knew this was uncomfortable at best, painful at worst. One of his hands stroked John's prick slowly, the other rubbing at his hip soothingly, in an attempt to distract John from his discomfort. He cooed words of encouragement and understanding, but they were all lost on John, as his mind was focusing on one thing only - Sherlock embedded within him. Slowly Sherlock moved further inside John, taking care not to let his own desire to take over and thrust savagely into John. Another time maybe, he reasoned.

Once entirely inside John he stopped moving. John was breathless as his body became accustomed to the cock inside him. His eyes opened a moment to stare at Sherlock, who's hands had braced themselves on either side of John's body, his head tilted down so all John could see was the top of Sherlock's ebony curls, that contrasted beautifully with his crumpled, white shirt. John was stuck suddenly by the sight.

After a moment of adjustment, John moved his hips slightly. Sherlock groaned at the movement. His head snapped up and he stared at John. Blues eyes locked with grey, Sherlock pulled his hips back, removing himself slowly from John, but not completely, before slowly pushing in again. John's breathing hitched. Short and shallow thrusts, caused John's cock to twitch. Sherlock took this as a positive sign and began to deepen the thrusts. John gasped in pleasure when Sherlock's cock hit his prostate, his hands shot out and grabbed hold of Sherlock and clawed at his shirt-covered back and shoulders, dragging blunt nails down to Sherlock's buttocks before grabbing roughly and pulling him deeper within him.

Sherlock growled, whether it was the dull sensation of nails scraping down his skin, or the feel of John pulling him closer, he couldn't be sure, but in that moment, John's obvious hunger was driving him out of his mind.

Sherlock once again pulled his hips back, but thrust in slightly harder this time. John began arching up to meet Sherlock's thrusts, his eyes rolled back in his head as the burning pain was slowly replaced with a burning pleasure.

As Sherlock made is way in and out of John, one hand gripped the sheets by John's face tightly, the other trailing its way down John's body before wrapping around his cock and stroking him in time with the thrusts.

His movements were no longer elegant or patient, but frantic and forceful. Desperately he pushed himself into John, losing any semblance of control as John clenched around him.

Sherlock's thrusts were angled to constantly find John's prostate, causing John to mumble an incoherent string of curses, his brain concentrating more on the pleasure coursing through his veins than allowing any other mental activity to properly take place. The combined feeling of Sherlock's prick so deep within him and his hand stroking his cock so wonderfully, soon drove John over the edge and he felt the familiar burning in his stomach.

'John...Fuck... so... tight...' Sherlock hissed.'Will you come for me John? ... I want to see you come, I want you to... moan and scream for me...'

Sherlock's words, along with his actions, pushed John over the edge and he rasped 'I'm gonna come... oh Fuck Sherlock... I'm gonna come...' before a howl erupted from deep within is throat, as ropes of white come landed on his chest and Sherlock's hand, his insides clenching around Sherlock's prick. Watching John as he came, the feel of the other man's body reacting so violently as he trust inside him, brought Sherlock to the edge of his own orgasm and with one final thrust he felt himself come undone as he growled John's name darkly.

Panting heavily, Sherlock slowly slipped out of John, causing the smaller man to moan audibly. Sherlock lay down beside him, his hand splayed across John's chest as he watched the man beneath him. John had yet to open his eyes, the aftershock of his orgasm still coursing through his veins.

A strange grin appeared on John's face. A dazed look fell across his features as he basked in the glorious post-coital serenity that seemed to have taken over his body. Sherlock watched him in fascination. How could he have fallen so hard for John yet never seen him at his most beautiful until that moment? It was preposterous. And wondrous. And so utterly magnificent. And it scared the living daylights out of him.

'That... was...' John started but Sherlock just leaned over him and kissed him chastely on the lips.

'I don't need reassurance about my own skills.' he answered matter-of-factly. John frowned but remained silent.

'You were amazing.' Sherlock added as he fell back against the pillows.

John grinned slightly before falling into a light sleep. Sherlock remained awake, watching the slow and steady rise and fall of John's chest.

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Authors Note: There it is... the fabled chapter of porn that I had been promising! :D

Hope it was ok... and read and review if you'd be so kind!


	7. Chapter 7

Assumptions - Chapter 7/7

Authurs Note: I'm so sorry for the unforgivable delay! I started a new job just before Christmas and then there was Christmas and then there was work... ok... I really have no excuse... but hopefully this will wrap thing up good enough for everyone! Thanks as usual to the wonderful fortheloveoftea for the beta. She's a bit of a legend!:)

Thanks of course to everyone who reviewed, favourited, alerted etc. I was so overwhelmed by the response I got for this story. Love for one and all and I if i had my way I'd have John and Sherlocks for everyone to take home with them... :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or John but lord help me I love them...

Summary: The morning after

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Assumptions Chapter 7

His first time with Sherlock is nothing like he expected. It isn't elegant and beautiful. It isn't slow and filled with delicate hands and butterfly kisses, with murmurs of love and adoration. It's frantic and messy. It's rough and desperate. It's deep moans and throaty gasps. It's bruised hips and purple bites. And its over entirely too quickly. There is no declarations of deep seated love or undying commitment. There is, however, the few moments of pure worship that is inflicted on bodies slick with sweat.

Then there is the inevitable, awkward moment after an exhausted sleep, when John wakes up. A warm body lying beside him.

Feigning sleep, he began to panic. What the hell was he supposed to do next? How is he supposed to act? Goosebumps erupted along his naked skin, giving him a vague feeling of someone watching him. It is the senses that have been honed from years living on edge that tells him – Sherlock is awake.

If Sherlock is awake, then he knows that John is awake. Maybe its a testament to what Sherlock may have picked up from John over the past few months of living together or maybe he's also feeling the awkwardness of the situation, regardless of which, Sherlock doesn't speak. He's pretending that he doesn't know that John is pretending to sleep. John's head hurts just thinking about it.

This is overwhelming. It's frustrating. It's so utterly absurd, yet John cannot help but want to do it all over again. For everything that sex with Sherlock Holmes is or isn't, it was (in John's humble opinion) exquisite. The sweet agony of nails clawing at virgin flesh, the burn from sharp incisors that marked his skin in possession. The strong yet delicate hands that pinned down his wrists. The deceptively rough lips, that murmured unspeakable acts into his wounded shoulder. Promises of glorious release and blinding pleasure. Each promise fulfilled beyond his wildest imaginings. The memories of last night cause a tremor of pleasure to run through John's body. A blush began to creep onto his cheeks which seem to add to his abject mortification.

Sherlock remained still and silent, ignoring (or respecting, he wasn't entirely sure himself...perhaps a first for Sherlock) John's obvious discomfort. He knew his next move was critical. Right now he had two choices.

Wait for John to make the first move and risk him over thinking the situation. Or two tell John he was aware that he was awake and do as he was wont to do and dissect the events of last night. It made his head spin.

Doing the latter would mean admitting to John exactly how much last night meant to him and what if it didn't mean the same to John? Sherlocks blood ran cold with the thought. And then, like a bolt of lightening, clarity struck. Break the tension that hung thick in the room, then worry about the consequences. In a stroke of utter genius, Sherlock did the best thing he could, he acted like Sherlock.

'Well...That was... interesting.' Sherlock spoke wearily, as if he was talking about a mildly entertain piece of literature not first time sex with his flat-mate. John opened his eyes. Sherlock leaned over his shoulder.

'The sex I mean...' he explained, as if he had to clarify to John what it was.

John began to shudder with laughter at the absurdity of the situation. He turned to face Sherlock and both burst out laughing. Sherlock threw himself back against the crisp white sheets, his forearm covering his eyes as his body convulsed with laughter.

Sherlock still laughing, watched John from the corner of his eye, his lids open a fraction.

John's head was thrown back as a bark of amusement escaped his lips, the tension leaving his shoulders. There was something so free and easy in John when he laughed. His face relaxed, his lips quirked at the sides, his eyes closed. He looked young and carefree. It was infectious. To hear John laugh was to lose yourself in the merriment. All Sherlock could think in that moment was how he could listen to John laughing forever. It was magnificent to behold. Before last night, John laughing was the most wonderful sight he had ever seen.

Before last night.

Now the image of John's face, John so utterly spent after their less than elegant fornication was permanently burned into is minds eye, so that when he closed his eyes, his senses were attacked by it. Sherlocks eyes closed properly at the thought, biting back the groan that threatened to escape his lips. He inhaled slowly to clear his mind and opened his eyes.

John was the first to calm down. He sighed lowly and looked over at Sherlock. It was a sight for sore eyes. Sherlocks long and elegant arm thrown over his eyes while his body twitched in his silent merriment, his toothy grin peaking out from full lips. John leaned over and kissed them chastely. Sherlock stopped laughing, but left his arm covering his eyes, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

'Thank you...' John whispered against the lips beneath his. Sherlock stroked his wounded shoulder with the back of his hand, a curious smile playing on his lips.

They'd be alright.

The End

Authors Note: There it is... hopefully you all liked it. Thanks so much for sticking with it to the end! love and hugs and kisses!

Sad Eyed Lady

Oh and read and review... if you would be so kind! :)


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